


Matthiola Incana

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [22]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bathing/Washing, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, F/F, First Kiss, Flowers, Kissing, Language of Flowers, Mash-up, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Trope de Trope, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Divergence: Holby City General Hospital CEO Serena Campbell's just acquired a new neighbour, trauma surgeon Bernie Wolfe, who is unhappily locuming at her soon-to-be-ex-husband's hospital, St James'. Serena sets out to woo Bernie to Holby. Bernie's equally determined to woo Serena, romantically, rather than professionally.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	Matthiola Incana

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Anon for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 11. Neighbour AU and 44. Flowers of Romance. This is one that got away from me.

Serena only realises she has a new neighbour, after months of the next door house being empty, when she notices she can smell cigarette smoke lingering in the side alley between the two houses where the wheelie bins are kept. She scowls at the smell, having no high opinion of anyone who smokes: as a surgeon she’s seen what harm nicotine can do to a human body.

The following morning she’s walking down the drive to her car, briefcase in one hand, travel mug of good coffee in the other, when a pale blue convertible sports car pulls into the drive of the house next door. Serena fiddles with her car keys, opening the door and putting her briefcase on the passenger seat and the travel mug in the dashboard holder, then she tucks her skirt underneath her and slides into the driver’s seat. She watches in the rear view mirror as her neighbour unfolds herself from the driver’s seat of her own car. She gets a glimpse of messy blonde hair and long, long legs clad in black denim: the rest of the woman’s body is obscured by a pale pink wool coat. The woman pulls a battered leather satchel from her own passenger seat, then closes the car door and locks it. She doesn’t glance Serena’s way as she makes her way up the neighbouring drive and Serena sighs, then starts her car and heads to work: she’s the CEO of one of Holby’s NHS hospitals and shouldn’t really be wasting time gawping at her new neighbour.

That evening Serena’s just pulling into her drive when her neighbour comes out of her house and heads towards her car. The pink wool coat is unbuttoned to reveal a dark coloured sweater and shirt underneath, paired with the black jeans of the morning. She can see that the other woman is around her own age and can’t help thinking that skinny jeans should not look so good on someone their age. 

Serena hops out of her car a bit hastily in order to call a greeting across the top of her car. “Good evening.”

The woman gives Serena a tight lipped smile. “Evening.”

“I’m Serena.”

“Bernie.” The woman opens her car door, then glances back at Serena. “Sorry, I have to get on.”

“That’s quite alright. We can introduce ourselves properly soon.”

Bernie nods, then climbs into her car and drives off before Serena has fished her briefcase and empty travel mug from her passenger seat. She feels a slight pang of disappointment that they didn’t have time to introduce themselves fully, but she resolves to ensure it happens soon. Hopefully Bernie won’t be rushing off again come the weekend.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Friday evening comes and Serena notes that Bernie’s car is still in the drive and that there is no sign of her new neighbour, who’s been leaving the house as she arrived home like clockwork all week. She takes her briefcase and travel mug inside then, before she can lose her nerve, she goes back outside and knocks on Bernie’s door.

The vision that’s vouchsafed her in response to her daring is quite the most alluring thing Serena Campbell has seen in some time: her neighbour is clad in lycra running shorts and a tight white vest top, and there’s sweat beading on her face, neck, and shoulders.

“Yes?” The other woman’s tone is harsh, but then her expression softens as she spots Serena. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright,” Serena says, doing her very best not to lick her lips as one particularly adventurous bead of sweat rolls down Bernie’s neck and disappears beneath the vest top. “I just wondered if you’d like to come and have a drink, and I could fill you in on the neighbourhood news.”

Bernie looks at Serena through her fringe, her dark brown eyes seeming shy suddenly. “I, um, I’d quite like that. I’ll grab a shower and get changed first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Serena says, although she is in no great hurry for Bernie to change out of those clothes, not when it’d mean getting to appreciate the other woman’s sinfully long legs, broad shoulders, and well toned arms. “Come round when you’re ready. I’ll leave the door on the catch, so let yourself in.”

“Thanks.”

Serena nods, then forces herself to turn on her heel and cross the few short feet of the side alley to reach her own house without turning back to gaze at her new neighbour.

She lets herself back into her house, making sure to leave the door on the catch. She slips off her heels and leaves them in the hallway, then heads to the kitchen where she opens a bottle of Shiraz and gets out two glasses. She removes her suit jacket and hangs it on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then she rummages in the fridge and the cupboards to find some snacks. She’d like to invite Bernie to stay for supper, but she’s not sure if that’s too much, too soon, so she sets out a bowl of dipping chips and a couple of dips, then a plate with her fanciest crackers, and another with slices of ham on one side and cheese on the other.

She’s just got everything arranged to her satisfaction when there’s a brisk rap at the front door, then it opens and Bernie calls, “It’s only me.”

Serena steps into the kitchen doorway and looks up the length of the hallway. “Come in, Bernie,” she says warmly.

Her neighbour smiles, then steps inside and closes the door. She slips her feet out of a pair of well worn trainers and leaves them next to Serena’s heels without needing to be asked.

“Hi,” she says, sounding shy.

“Hello. Come on through.”

Bernie pads, sock-clad, down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Serena asks. “I don’t usually have supper until eight o’clock, but I’m peckish now, so I got out some snacks.” She gestures for her neighbour to take a seat.

“Thank you,” Bernie says with a half smile. “I won’t say no. I’ve worked up quite an appetite with my workout.”

“Wine?” 

“Thank you.”

“I did wonder if you’d be heading out again this evening and we’d have to postpone this until tomorrow,” Serena says, setting a glass of wine in front of Bernie.

“No, fortunately I’ve come to the end of my nightshifts for this week. I – um – I’m a locum at one of the hospitals.”

“Oh? Which one? Because I’m the CEO of one of the hospitals.”

“Huh, weird coincidence.” Bernie swirls her wine in the glass for a moment, then inhales, before taking a mouthful. “I’m currently at St James’ Hospital, although I won’t be staying.”

“No?”

Bernie shakes her head. “Working in the same hospital as your soon-to-be-ex-husband, who’s busy telling all and sundry that you’re a dyke and a bitch is really not conducive to a pleasant working environment. He –” She stops. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this. Unfair of me to unload onto a total stranger.”

“Well, as a founder member of the embittered ex-wives’ club, I’d say you’re with the best person to unload onto. Let’s relocate to the sitting room, where we’ll be much more comfortable, and you can tell me all about it.” 

“If – if you’re sure,” Bernie says.

“I’m absolutely positive,” Serena assures her, and grabs a tray, onto which she loads their snacks and the opened bottle of Shiraz. “You bring our glasses of wine, and we’ll make ourselves cosy and comfortable.”

“Thank you, Serena.”

They relocate to the sitting room, settling on the sofa together with the tray of snacks and the opened bottle of wine on the coffee table before them.

“So your soon-to-be-ex has been slinging slurs around?” Serena asks, as Bernie fills a plate with crackers loaded with ham and cheese, then scoops some dip onto the side of the plate. 

She nods. “I finally admitted that I’m a lesbian and don’t really have any interest in men. I asked him for a divorce and he’s been taking it really badly.”

“And you said this ex is telling everyone your business?”

Bernie sighs. “Including one of my patients.”

“Report him to the HR department, Bernie,” Serena says immediately.

“Oh, well, I’m not sure – I mean, I was only contracted there for a few weeks,” the blonde says, flushing. “I’ll be leaving soon.”

Serena clasps her left wrist, squeezing it lightly. “Bernie, he’s engendering a hostile working environment for you. Can you absolutely swear he wouldn’t do so again with someone else? If he’s slinging around homophobic and misogynistic slurs because of you, there’s no guarantee he won’t do so because of someone else. In your CEO’s shoes, I wouldn’t tolerate it, and I’m betting Jemima Flannigan wouldn’t, either.”

“You know Ms Flannigan?” Bernie asks, then huffs. “Of course you do, you’re both women CEOs in what’s still a largely male dominated career.”

Serena chuckles. “While that’s true, it’s not the only reason we know each other.”

“Oh.” Bernie beginning to eat half a cracker and some ham. “University buddies?”

“And lovers,” Serena says, then has to reach out and thump Bernie on the back when she starts choking on her snack. 

Eventually Bernie straightens up, tears streaming from her eyes and Serena plucks a tissue from the box on the end of the coffee table and passes it to her. 

“Let me get you a glass of water,” she says and Bernie nods, eyes hidden by the tissue she’s using to mop up her tears. 

Serena hurries into the kitchen feeling immensely guilty for just randomly throwing that fact at Bernie in such a careless fashion, just because she wanted the blonde to know that she wasn’t heterosexual either. She scowls to herself in annoyance as she grabs a glass from the cupboard then fills it with cold water before returning to the sitting room. 

“Here,” she says, trying not to notice the fact that Bernie’s very careful not to let their fingers brush as she accepts the glass from Serena.

“Thank you.” She slowly drinks about half of it, then coughs to clear her throat. “Do you always tell total strangers about your lovers?” 

Bernie’s gaze is burning and full of curiosity, Serena thinks, but she’s not entirely sure the burning is because she’s interested in Serena.

“No,” she says, aware she’s blushing. “I – um – I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that.” Bernie ducks her head, reaching for her glass of wine, and Serena swallows, then says, “I’m very sorry for embarrassing you.”

Bernie lifts her head again. “You didn’t embarrass me, well not very much. I was shocked, though, to be given such private information on less than thirty minutes acquaintance.”

“Well, I apologise for that, too.” 

Bernie nods, then picks up her plate of snacks. “I’ll go and speak to Ms Flannigan about Marcus on Monday.”

“Good.”

They talk in a desultory fashion for another half hour or so before Bernie says she should be getting back as she’s things to do that she hasn’t managed to fit in during the week between sleeping during the day and working all night.

“Of course,” Serena says, feeling a pang of disappointment. She knows, however, that it’s her own fault that Bernie’s leaving so soon. They get to their feet and make their way into the hall where Bernie slides her feet into her trainers. 

“Thanks for the wine and nibbles, Serena,” Bernie says. “I’m truly sorry I can’t stay longer but I need to finish unpacking properly this weekend, which means doing my laundry this evening if I’m to have any clean clothes to wear the rest of the weekend.”

Serena smiles. “Maybe we could have supper one evening next week since you won’t be working nights?”

“I’d like that,” Bernie says. “Goodnight, Serena.” And to her surprise, Bernie leans in and presses her lips briefly to her cheek before stepping outside and disappearing into the twilight.

“Oh,” she says softly. A goodnight kiss, however brief and chaste, is the last thing she’d expected from her new neighbour. It makes her feel a bit better about the way that the evening has gone.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Serena doesn’t see Bernie again all weekend, although she does note the lingering smell of cigarette smoke in their shared alleyway a couple of times. She’s tempted to knock on Bernie’s door to tell her off, but she refrains since she doesn’t want to get into a fight with the other woman. That would be even worse than blurting out information about a previous lover. She is very surprised, however, that Bernie smokes, given that she’s a doctor, too.

On Monday morning she leaves the house to see that Bernie’s car has already disappeared from her drive and she feels a little disappointed to have missed her, although she knows that Bernie’s got a longer drive to reach St James’ from here than Serena has to reach Holby City.

When Serena gets home, Bernie’s car is still missing from her drive, so she heads inside to her study where she pens a brief note to her neighbour, inviting her to come and have supper the following evening. She writes her mobile number on the bottom and suggests that Bernie texts her, asking that she let Serena know if she has any food allergies or just strong dislikes.

She’s in the middle of preparing supper when her phone chimes to let her know she has a new text message. She wipes her hands quickly, then grabs the phone and swipes to see the message.

_Bernie here. Tomorrow night for supper sounds great. No food allergies, love hot and spicy foods, hate mayonnaise and baked beans. Thanks._

Serena immediately saves Bernie’s number, before composing a response: _Food preferences duly noted. See you 8pm. Serena x_

She’s already hit send before she wonders if she should have left off the kiss at the end, but it’s too late now.

_8pm it is. B x_

Serena feels the tension release from her shoulders at the sight of that reciprocal kiss.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

The following evening, just after 6pm, Serena’s phone chimes with a new text message:

_Can’t make tonight, sorry. Multiple car RTC victims about to arrive, will be elbow deep in blood and bodies for much of the night. B x_

Serena sighs, disappointed by the news, but she’d been fully aware from previous experience of dating surgeons that such a possibility was likely.

_Sorry to hear that. Hope you don’t end up working too late. Let me know if Thursday’s any good instead? S x_

She sets her phone aside and thinks that it’s lucky Bernie let her know in such a timely fashion so that she wasn’t already in the middle of preparing supper for two. 

It’s not until Wednesday morning that Serena sees a text from Bernie, sent late the evening before, that says: _Thursday sounds good, RTCs and other trauma victims willing. Staying the night in the on-call room. B x_

Serena frowns, hoping that the on-call rooms at St James’ are not too awful. Still, it’s a private hospital so they can probably afford better quality linen on the beds, and more comfortable beds, too.

She decides to wait until after breakfast to text back, not knowing if Bernie will have her phone on silent or even have switched it off overnight, and not wanting to wake her too early if her phone is on.

_Hope you had a comfy bed and slept well. S x_

Wednesday is a drag: a Board meeting takes up a large chunk of her afternoon and she finds herself immensely irritated at the old fogeys, as she mentally dubs them, who resist change and expenditure. She has been trying for some time to improve the trauma facilities available at Holby, and having met Bernie, she’s even more determined to get a dedicated trauma unit set up at her hospital. Bernie hadn’t told her, but Serena had dared to ask Jemima Flannigan about her, and had found out that Bernie is, in fact, Major Berenice Wolfe, RAMC (Retd), a very well known trauma surgeon, the best in the country, according to Jemima, and since she knows Bernie’s not happy at St James’ Serena’s going to try to woo her to Holby, preferably with the promise of a dedicated trauma unit for the blonde to run.

It’s not until after the Board meeting (where she’d won their agreement to getting a trauma unit installed, probably on AAU) that Serena thinks to check her phone for messages from Bernie: she’s had it on silent for much of the day as she was in meetings for most of the morning, too. 

_These weary bones can sleep anywhere after a couple of decades bunking down in the desert. Though I shall be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight, all things being equal. B x_

Serena smiles and briefly wonders whether to tell Bernie about Holby’s trauma unit, before deciding to wait until they have dinner the following evening. 

_I’ll cross my fingers for you leaving on time tonight. S x_

She sets her phone aside and focuses on the paperwork she needs to sign off before she can head home for a long hot soak and a glass or two of Shiraz.

She’s just climbing out of her car when Bernie pulls up on her own drive. They exchange waves, then Serena ducks into her car for her briefcase and travel mug. She straightens up and closes the door just as Bernie’s climbing, very stiffly she notes, from her own car.

“Good evening,” Serena says. “Are you alright?”

“Evening,” Bernie says, her voice low and husky, which stirs Serena’s senses. “Back’s giving me gyp, that’s all.”

“Will you be alright?”

Bernie nods briefly. “Nothing a long hot soak in the bath won’t fix.”

Serena can’t help chuckling at that. “I’ve had a day of meetings, including a lengthy one with the hospital Board, and I’ll admit to having been practically drooling over the prospect of a long hot bath and a glass of Shiraz.”

Bernie gives her a tight smile. “I hope you enjoy your evening, Serena.” She nods, then walks stiffly up the drive and lets herself into her house. 

Serena frowns, not sure if she’s offended Bernie in some way, although she’s unclear how since the blonde was the one who brought up long baths. She shakes her head, walks the rest of the way up her drive and lets herself into her home. She steps out of her heels, sheds her coat, then moves into the kitchen to uncork a bottle of Shiraz. She grabs the bottle and a glass, then pads upstairs in stockinged feet. She carries the wine and glass into the bathroom, setting them on top of the linen cupboard, then she starts running a bath, dropping in a bath bomb to make it smell nice and to help her to relax. 

She steps back out of her ensuite and slips off her suit jacket, carefully setting it on the hanger. Then she unzips her skirt and steps out of that, adding it to the hanger. She unbuttons her coral pink silk blouse and eases it off, then tugs off her camisole. She drops both items into the clothes hamper in the corner, then she sits on the side of the bed and rolls her stockings down, before dispensing with her matching bra and panties set. She always wears nice underwear to work, enjoying the sense of power it gives her. She drops that into the clothes hamper, too, then pulls on her bathrobe before moving back into the ensuite. 

The bath is almost full to the level she prefers so she pours herself a glass of wine, then sets it and the bottle on the little shelf that runs between the side of the bath and the wall, before she turns off the taps, sheds her bathrobe, and steps carefully into the bath, sighing in pleasure as the heat of the water licks up her limbs.

Once settled in the bath she drinks her wine slowly, savouring every measured mouthful. She finds her mind drifting to Bernie, idly wondering if the blonde is already ensconced in her own bath and what, if any, rituals she has about bathing. She wonders, too, what’s wrong with Bernie’s back; she knows from Jemima Flannigan that Bernie took a medical discharge from the RAMC after being injured in an incident involving an IED, and while Jemima didn’t go into any details about Bernie’s injuries, she can’t help wondering if the other woman’s back was injured in the explosion. 

Serena’s halfway down her second glass of wine before it occurs to her that she’s lying naked in her bath thinking about another woman and she flushes with a heat that has nothing to do with the temperature of the bathwater. She finishes up her second glass of wine, then grabs her loofah and sets to work with it. She tells herself that she’s not allowed to think about Bernie again until tomorrow. 

That plan is somewhat derailed when she picks up her phone, once she’s dressed again, and discovers a text from her neighbour:

_Sorry about my shortness earlier – back was terrible. Turns out the mattress on the bed in the on-call room was entirely wrong for me. It did a number on my back and performing surgeries all day has been painful. Promise I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow, if we’re still on for supper? B x_

Serena feels an enormous sense of relief that Bernie wasn’t upset with her. She texts back immediately:

_Very sorry to hear about your back. Are you getting proper treatment for it? Sorry about being nosy, but I’m concerned. Hope you have a nice restful evening ahead of you. Definitely still on for supper tomorrow. Come over as early as you like once you’re back from work. Take care, Bernie. S x_

She pads downstairs and into the kitchen and grabs the takeaway menus from the drawer in one of the kitchen cabinets, sifting through them to see what tickles her fancy. She settles on Thai and wanders into the sitting room to await its arrival. Perhaps she’ll watch some mindless TV while she eats. She’s scrolling through Netflix, trying to decide what she wants to watch, when her phone chimes again.

_Binge-watching first season of_ Orange is the New Black, _which has come highly recommended (I missed it being overseas and not yet out) and takeaway pizza. Enjoy your evening, Serena. B x_

Serena can’t help chuckling at this and she responds immediately:

_I hope you enjoy_ OitNB _and the pizza. I’m going to watch the new lady doctor in Doctor Who – I’ve heard good things about her – and eat Thai takeaway. S x_

The doorbell rings and Serena sets her phone down to go and grab her delivery. To her intense amusement a young Black man with a Deliveroo bag is making his way back down Bernie’s drive; her front door is shut so Serena has no chance to wave at her or to suggest that Bernie come over and eat with her. She wouldn’t mind watching _OitNB_ again. She curses herself for crushing so badly on the other woman, then carries her food into the sitting room and settles down to see what Jodie Whittaker can make of such an iconic television role.

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

A good chunk of Serena’s Thursday is spent making telephone calls or in meetings as she tries to establish how much it’s going to cost to get a trauma unit in place on AAU. Ric Griffin, the clinical lead of the ward, seems to be both pleased and annoyed about the whole thing, and she eventually drags out of him the fact that he’s not looking forward to sharing his ward with someone else.

She sighs internally. She and Ric normally get on fairly well, but he can be a stubborn old coot at times.

“Ric, it’ll be necessary to have a trauma lead for the trauma unit. We need someone experienced to run that side of things, someone who has been plying their trade in the field of trauma surgery for at least a decade.”

He frowns at her. “You sound like you have someone in mind,” he observes.

She hopes she’s not flushing as she says, “I do have my eye on someone, actually. Have you heard of Major Berenice Wolfe?”

Ric’s eyes widen. “She’s with the RAMC,” he says. “I’ve read several papers of hers in _The Lancet_.”

“She’s recently retired from the RAMC,” Serena tells him. “And is currently on a short term locum contract with St James’.”

He stares at her. “Well, she’s not going to give up working in a private hospital to come and run a trauma unit in an NHS hospital. Her pay would be cut significantly.”

“I think she might,” Serena says. “I happen to know she’s not enjoying working in the private sector.”

“You’ve met her?” Ric asks, sitting up straighter. “What’s she like?”

Serena chuckles at his enthusiasm. “She’s my new neighbour actually. Moved in the weekend before last. I’ve conversed with her a couple of times.”

“Do you really think you could get her here?”

Serena swallows further laughter. “I’m going to ask her this evening. But we should still draw up a shortlist of the top five trauma surgeons, besides Major Wolfe, who are working in the UK and get their contact details so we can invite them to come for an interview if Major Wolfe turns us down.”

“I can do that,” Ric says. He sighs. “I hope she says yes. To have someone of her calibre here in Holby would really raise our prestige.”

“Don’t I know it,” Serena says dryly.

Ric checks the time on his phone. “I’d better go, I’ve got a theatre slot booked for 2pm.”

Serena nods, waving him off. She has a stack of personnel files to work through as it’s staff appraisals time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Serena’s relieved when she manages to leave work on time for once and she wastes no time in escaping from her office and practically running to her reserved parking space to jump into her car and high tail it out of the hospital car park.

Once she gets home, she takes off her suit jacket, then she makes a start on supper as it needs more than an hour to cook in the oven. She’d found a cottage pie recipe that’s described as ‘Bengali-spiced’ and she’d decided to try making it for tonight’s supper since Bernie had said she likes spicy food. The recipe makes four to six servings, so she puts half into an ovenproof dish to cook, then the other half she puts into a freezer-proof dish to be cooked at a later date.

Once it’s in the oven, she collects her jacket and heads upstairs to grab a quick shower and get changed. She’s tired of her CEO persona today and feels like being more relaxed and casual in her dress. She scrubs herself thoroughly, then shaves her legs and under her arms equally thoroughly. She flicks a glance at her bush but decides to leave it as it is – she’s never been one to try to tame that.

After she’s dried off, Serena puts on a black silk and lace plunge bra that she knows gives her fabulous cleavage, then she pulls on the matching knickers. She doesn’t really believe that she and Bernie will be engaging in an intimate encounter tonight, but she can’t help dressing to blow the other woman’s socks off. She puts on stockings, rolling them carefully up each of her legs in turn, then she pulls on a pair of black tailored trousers before adding a burgundy silk blouse. She leaves off her usual camisole since she really wants to flaunt her cleavage. She brushes her grey hair, wondering if Bernie finds it sexy, then applies her make up.

She’s just sorting out the greens to steam to go with the cottage pie when someone rings her doorbell, and she hopes it’s not someone trying to sell insurance or god. Opening the door, she finds herself absolutely stunned at the sight of Berenice Wolfe. She’d thought the other woman looked good in skinny jeans or in lycra shorts and a vest top, but she discovers that Bernie looks absolutely amazing when clad in a three piece suit that includes a waistcoat in mid blue decorated with gold embroidery and a formal white dress shirt with several buttons undone, giving her a nice view of the other woman’s clavicles and throat. She’s so busy gazing at Bernie that it takes her quite a while to register that the blonde is holding a bouquet of flowers. 

She swallows hard and says, “Come in” in an unintentionally husky voice.

“These are for you,” Bernie says softly, and Serena realises that Bernie’s gazing at her and looking as entranced as she feels.

“Thank you.” Serena tears her eyes from Bernie and steps back to let her into the house, then looks down to see that her bouquet consists of red chrysanthemums, blush pink peonies, something she cannot identify, and carnations in a deeper pink than the peonies. “What are these?” she asks, pointing at the very pale pink flowers that seem to have the scent of cinnamon and something else.

“They’re matthiola incana,” Bernie says. “Their scent is cinnamon and cloves.”

“I’ve never seen them before,” Serena says.

“The florist recommended them.”

“Well, they’re gorgeous. The whole bouquet is. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Serena waits while Bernie takes off the kitten heels she’s wearing with her suit, then leads the way into the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” she says, “while I put these in some vases.”

“Thank you.”

Serena pulls out two vases since the bouquet is of a generous size and fills them with water, then she separates out the flowers into two even bunches. “The chrysanthemums are quite a startling contrast to the varying shades of pink of the other flowers.”

“They, um, they all have a meaning, according to the florist.”

Serena turns, her hands full of matthiola incana. “Oh?”

Bernie’s flushed, the apples of her cheeks a shade of pink similar to the peonies that she brought Serena. “The florist told me a bit about the symbolism of various flowers, then helped me to pick out those in the bouquet.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Serena says, curiosity aroused by Bernie’s blushes.

“The matthiola incana represents beauty that doesn’t fade with age and a lifetime of happiness. The chrysanthemums represent love and passion. Peonies are associated with romance and prosperity and, um, bashfulness.” She ducks her head, hiding behind her fringe, and Serena chuckles softly.

“And the carnations?”

“Um, fascination and new love.” 

Serena raises an eyebrow. “Why Major, is there something you’re trying to tell me?” she asks in a seductively husky tone.

“Um, well, you see, I like you, Serena. And I’d like to get to know you much better.”

Serena feels her heart rate pick up. “I see. Well, as it so happens, I like you, too, Berenice Wolfe, and I’d very much like to get to know you much better, too.”

She abandons the flowers on the counter, then rounds the kitchen table to where Bernie’s sitting. “I’d like to kiss you,” she says softly.

To her delight, the blonde reaches up to cup Serena’s cheek, then plants her lips very firmly on Serena’s mouth. The kiss goes on for some time as Bernie draws Serena onto her lap, and it’s only when the alarm on Serena’s phone goes off to remind her to start steaming the greens that the two women finally pull apart.

“To be continued,” she whispers with a last peck on Bernie’s lips.

“To be continued,” the blonde agrees, giving Serena a shy smile.

Serena sashays over to the other counter and starts putting the greens into the steamer, then washes her hands before resuming sorting out her bouquet. She feels more alive than she can ever remember feeling before. She feels almost giddy at the possibility of a proper romance with Bernie Wolfe.

Then she remembers that Bernie’s still married, and she whirls around. “I don’t like cheats,” she says vehemently, and the blonde jolts back in her chair.

“I’m not cheating,” she says. “I’m divorced as of yesterday. The decree absolute came through.”

“Oh.” Serena feels herself blushing with mortification. “I’m sorry, I –”

“It’s fine, Serena,” Bernie says, getting to her feet and moving to her side. “I quite understand.” She slides her arms around the brunette, then lowers her head and kisses her languidly, a kiss full of promise.

“Are we good, Serena?” she asks.

Serena nods. “We are good.”

Bernie smiles. “I don’t know what’s for dinner, but it smells very good.”

Serena smiles back. “Dessert will be even better.” She smirks when Bernie flushes, then whimpers when the other woman, her eyes dark with desire, presses her more firmly against the counter and kisses her with hunger.

“I’m looking forward to dessert,” Bernie says, her voice low and husky, and Serena bites back a moan. It’s possible this woman is going to wreck her. Somehow, though, she can’t find it in herself to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/632739091107217408/im-so-happy-to-see-youre-still-doing-the).


End file.
